


You’re a Butterfly

by brownsugah



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1970s, AU, Bottom Harry, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Pining, Smut, Top Louis, a lot of fluff, explicit content, homophobia since it’s based in the 70s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 00:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19819123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brownsugah/pseuds/brownsugah
Summary: Louis looked at Harry in the eyes, locking him in. Harry doesn’t get how he always does that.“Are we friends now, Harry?” Louis softly asks. His voice like summer rain, making Harry’s heart blossom. Depends, Harry thinks, Will friends let me hold your hand whenever I want? Kiss me  in the middle of the street? Dance with me even when theres no music playing, just to be closer? Do friends do that?“I don’t really have many friends, besides Niall” He replies, “but, yes. Friends would be nice, I think.”orHarry Styles’ life is interrupted by the hurricane that is Louis tomlinson, which ends up being something beautiful.Liverpool, 1975. AU.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> hi !
> 
> this is my first fic ! sorry if it has some mistakes or anything, but i’ve been thinking about this concept for a while and i hope you enjoy !
> 
> the playlist i created for this fic: https://open.spotify.com/user/21in653eic7go6dc3oinh7txa/playlist/3VTlsQeH4rBfBP1h2kp1bD?si=pKi3ilW6QceIq8CA5ICIEg
> 
> warnings:
> 
> this fic is based in the 1970’s which means there will be slurs of homophobia that some of the characters contribute in.  
> also ! this is a work of fiction. apart from the city of Liverpool, everything else is made up. It is an alternate universe.
> 
> thank you for reading and i hope u like it :p

It was Monday morning.  
  
Rays of light squinted through the lace curtains and danced across the hills of sheets, sparkling up the once dim room. The window was left open during the night, therefore soft gusts of summer breeze came into the room. The light kissed the beige-cream walls. The singing of birds could be heard along with the sound of cluttering downstairs.  
  
Harry opened his eyes slowly with a low sigh. His wild curls stuck to his forehead until he combed them back with his fingers and shook his head slightly to wake himself up. He reached to his side table and switched on the lamp on top of a few of his favourite Harper Lee books. As the much brighter light illuminated his room, he brought himself to clamber out of his bed- untangling himself from his bed sheets.  
  
While he bushed his teeth he stared back into his own eyes in the relection of the small bathroom mirror on top of the sink. The realisation that it was Monday morning hit Harry and he groaned before spitting out his toothpaste, drying his face off and wandering back into his bedroom. He switches on his radio to be greeted by the sound of Elton John’s ‘Someone Saved My Life Tonight’ crackling through the old speaker. He smiled at the playing tune as he began to get ready, his sleep-induced mind skimming over the lyrics about butterflies and freedom. The song then faded into a Cilla Black original, not something Harry was too familiar with. Some of her new stuff, his mother would know. As he attempted to tame his tight curly hair, his thoughts were interrupted by his mothers humming, overpowering the buzz of his radio. Harry’s eyes widened as he checked his wrist watch realising it was 7:25am and he had to leave pretty soon if he didn’t want to miss his bus. Stumbling out of his bedroom door he put on his scuffed shoes and followed the scent of freshly brewed coffee down the stairs. He was not being late on the first day of the week. He darted past his cat, Rosie, after giving her a pat on her head. In return she purred before swishing her ginger tail and curling up on the staircase step.  
  
“Good morning to you, too, darling” H’s mother, Anne, sarcastically said as Harry paced past to the door, ignoring her and her offering of a cup of coffee. She raised an eyebrow at him, her hand perked on her hip.  
  
“Sorry, mum,” He replied apologetically, “but I’m gonna be late, love you, though.” And with that he hastily placed a kiss on his mothers cheek and shut the front door behind him.  
  
As he finally arrived at the bus stop with two minutes to spare, his cheeks flushed rose due to the chaotic rush he was in to get there. He felt extremely warm, and the turtleneck he was in wasn’t helping either, but it’s his mothers favourite. He played with the mauve sleeves of it, before the bus finally arrived.

The strap of his satchel was worn down on his shoulder as he held it, scrambling himself up to quickly find a seat after quietly greeting the driver. Harry didn’t mind bus journeys. He usually played his favourite cassettes through his headphones, keeping it in his backpack on his lap so he didn’t take up much room, and just look out the window as the songs played. Today he had the choice of Sticky Fingers, Let It Be, or the brand new David Bowie album his mum had bought him for his seventeenth birthday,Young Americans (he liked to have a good selection for his pleasure of deciding what he wants that specific morning.) He decided on Let It Be and smiled slightly to himself as the sweet music began to play. The upbeat rhythm seemed to compliment the visionary of outside the bus. Kids swinging themselves round lampposts as their mothers lit a cigarette in the beautiful summers heat. A cloudless sky washing above the landscape; bikes parading to and from Matthew Street while cracks on the pavement stretched across the city. Flared beams of early morning sun broke through the bus window and glazed over the hard seats.  
  
Suddenly, the bus came to a jittering stop. Harry’s head jolted forward slightly as he was broken out of his daze. He took a sharp intake of breath as he realised the stop he was at. It was Calvin’s. Even though Calvin and Harry didn’t get on, pre se, it did mean there was only two more stops until he could get off and go to college peacefully. The last thing Harry wanted to see was Calvin’s gang with their greased back hair, black leather jackets and obscene scent of smokey breath laced with chewing gum, come onto the bus to terrorise him. However, for now, he was faced with the reality that was, Calvin Rodgers.  
  
“Well, well, well,” Harry braced himself for interrogation, “if it isn’t Liverpool’s biggest sissy. Its been a long weekend, hasn’t it?”  
  
Harry tried to ignore him, put his head down and tried to just shut him out. It never worked though.  
  
“Cat got your tongue?” Calvin snarled, before snatching Harry’s cassette player off him. Harry tried to get it back, but it was a pathetic attempt.  
  
“Please, Calvin, give it back. It was a gift.” Harry incoherently mumbled, averting eye contact from Calvin and his group of friends.  
  
“The fags begging for it, Cal” One of Calvins friend, Jack, Harry thinks hes called, laughs. God, he hates them so much. And himself. He just wishes he was brave enough to shout at them and be able to fight back- but, unfortunately, he’s not. He knows for a fact if he tried he’d be stomped on and crushed like a cigarette stump.  
  
Harry can feel his eyes well up. He hates being humiliated and called that f word. It makes him feel sick. He doesn’t get why they always pick on him, he’s never done anything. Maybe he’s just easy.

“Please...” he almost whispered, embarrassed. The group of boys just carried on laughing at him mockingly, tossing the cassette player around, worrying Harry. There’s nothing he loves more than that object. Well, besides his mum and cat. But that player has so much value to Harry. It keeps him company on his lonely nights and reminds him of why life is worth battling through. If it broke, he would be lost. He doesn’t have the money for a new one. Panic started to set and Harry felt his eyes sting with more tears building up.

“Lads.” The bus driver said sternly with a raise of his eyebrow through the mirror that looked onto the entire bus. The boys then rolled their eyes as Calvin chucked the cassette player to Harry. He whimpered slightly has it was impactful on his chest . He inspected it and only saw a few scratches. He sighed with relief before deciding to get off at the next stop and walk the rest of the way - not wanting to hear the snarky remarks about himself coming from the Calvin and his group of friends.

-

Loud chattering filled Harry’s ears. He tried to let the noise drown out his anxious thoughts, but they increased them. His palms grew sweaty as adjusted his glasses and kept his eyes glued on the floor, hoping he’d go unnoticed. He could hear Niall’s boisterous laugh and hoped to dear god that his feet would lead him there. In the back of his head, he kept hearing whispers as the corridors became busier . Harry didn’t know if the were actually being said or it was his own mind playing games with him.

Look at him, he’s pathetic.

Sissy.

I’ve seen more spine in a jellyfish.

Fucking freak.

Cat got your tongue?

F-

“Hey! Watch where you’re going.”

Harry couldn’t comprehend what just happened. One minute he was trying to focus on getting to Niall, calmly. The next he’s slammed into someone’s chest and falling on the floor. Great.

He looked up at the person he accidentally ran into. The boy had a dusting of stumble that defined his jaw. Smooth caramel skin. Beautifully swept brown hair and thin pink lips. And his eyes were so blue, Harry thought he was drowning in them, like they were the deepest ocean he had ever seen and the way they shined despite the dusky corridor setting took Harry’s breath away. They looked down on him like stars in the s-

“Are you gonna say sorry?” The blue-eyed boy snapped harry out of his blue-eyed trance.

“Um, yeah. S-sorry.” Harry stuttered as a blush crept onto his cheeks. God, he was so embarrassed, again. That’s twice this morning. He mentally scolds himself for making his monday this bad already.

He scrambles back onto his feet and pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He was expecting the boy to say something to him- mostly insulting things. Nothing he hasn’t dealt with before.

But he just smirked as Harry looked back at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to do in this situation. As Harry stared he took notice of the boys very few freckles and eye crinkles because they were stood that close. Harry lightly coughed into his fist due to the awkwardness that had lasted too long for his own taste and tried to get around the boy and go over to Niall who was watching the scene unfold, giggling to himself.

However as he left, the blue-eyed boy grabbed his arm carefully and, if Harry’s being honest, he expected to be punched or something by the intimidating stranger. That would just make his morning, wouldn’t it.

But instead he reached down then said, “You dropped this,” with light shoulder tap as the boy handed Harry his small cassette player.

“Oh and please close your mouth, you’ll catch flies” the boy added before he snickered and took long strides away, leaving Harry in the middle of the corridor, mentally face-palming himself as he shut his mouth and walked quickly towards Niall.

He could already hear Niall’s laugh as he got closer and dreaded to hear his input on whatever just happened. Him and Niall have been friends since they were young boys, around 7 years old. Niall let him share his crayons when Harry forgot his own during primary school like the kind adolescent he was. Ever since then, they were fairly close friends. Complete polar opposites though. Niall was loud, popular and outgoing. Harry, however, was definitely an introvert with a tendency to repel people rather than attract as he wasn’t very talkative or captivating. He just kept himself to himself and, well, Niall.

“H, that was priceless, you should’ve seen your face.” Niall said as he mimicked Harry’s open cod-mouth. Harry just sarcastically smiled in return.

“That’s the second time that’s happened to me today.” He sighed as he sat on the bench niall was perched on, getting his timetable out of his satchel, was yellow-washed paper with chicken scratch hand writing telling him the amount of hours he had fashion design across the duration of the week.

“What, the second time you’ve fallen flat on your arse? Jesus, mate, it’s only half 8 in the mornin’!” Niall replied, still smiling to himself before taking a large bite out of his apple from his bag.

“No, that i’ve embarrassed myself” Harry rolled his eyes, but still laughed along as it was pretty funny. And plus, Niall’s smile was infectious, “Who even was that?” he asked Niall, as he knows basically everybody in this school and gets along with them all. Something Harry deeply envies.

“The lad you ran into? Oh, that’s Tommo,” Niall took a bite of his apple, “just moved here from Donny this weekend.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, “This weekend?” Who moves literally a day before going to a new school? Bit rash if you ask him.

“Strange, i know” Niall shrugged, “but he’s funny. Friends with Liam. You know Liam Payne, right? Does photography and footy for the college”

“Yeah, heard of ‘im,” Harry replied, “What subject does Tommo study?”

Niall spluttered around his apple as harry spoke and bursted into a fit of giggles.

“What?” Harry questioned, confused.

“He’s not actually called Tommo. He’s actually called Louis Tomlinson, ‘Tommo’ is his nickname. Sounded proper funny with your posh accent. And he takes photography, as well.”

“Oh.” Harry blushed. Niall budged his shoulder playfully and offered him some of his water, which Harry denied. He watched as Niall practically inhaled the entire bottle and threw it flawlessly into the bin opposite them after crinkling it up into a plastic mess.

As Harry stared at him fondly, Niall curiously looked back at him and said, “what?”, then taking out a cigarette and a light.

Harry took Niall’s apple off him and tossed that into the bin, too, before smiling and replying,

“‘M not posh.”

-

Today was the 15th September, 1975. Harry has been looking forward to this day for a number of months now. Ever since the local radio stations announced that Pink Floyd’s brand new album Wish You Were Here would finally be released. Harry had always been a big fan of Pink Floyd. He remember when his mother played The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn to him for the first time. For an 8 year old, he could admit that it was the best album he had ever listened to.

To this day, it reminded him of christmas 1967, while his grandfather complained about young Harry whilst sipping on his whiskey and was concerned that he would scratch the vinyl if he kept playing it that frequently on the record player. His sister dancing with him and laughing as the scent of pine and malt wine filled the air.

Harry smiled fondly at the flood of memories as he put on his worn-down converse and pushed his hair back. He wore dark-wash jean flares with a light-wash denim jacket, with a red and yellow striped polo that he treated himself too while him and Niall went out to town at the weekend. Beaming at his reflection in the downstairs mirror, he shouted to his mother that he was going out as he combed back his hair once more and left with no further ado.

He clambered on to his rickety bike and peddled faster and faster until he reached the record store. He knew once he arrived his hair would be unruly again, out of place due to the lack of gel he used this morning as he was in a slight rush to be one of the first there. His cheeks were rosy and warm as he set his bike up outside, invited by the lit up coloured sign that read, ‘Davy’s Records’.

Harry smiled as he walked over to the small shop. His feet trailed behind him across the cobbles, past the motel and diner across the street. As he got closer, he realised the store was practically bursting at the seams because of how busy it was. Harry’s hooded eyes and faded smile looked in the window. He wasn’t sure he was cut out to be in such a compact space. But his anticipation got the better of him and his legs led him in; sparking off the bell attached to the door, which was over ruled by distant talking anyways.

“Ah, ‘Arry, boy!” Davy, the shopkeeper, spoke. Davy was good friends with Harry’s grandfather and therefore good friends with Harry. His grandfather was a generous man. He used to bring Harry to Davy’s shop on Saturdays and help him pick out a brand new vinyl for his collection. Every time they walked in, Harry on his grandfathers back, Davy was either playing Eagles or Wings (because he was the only person on planet earth who thought they were better than the beatles.)

“Hi, Davy” He grinned back. He stuffed his hands into his jacket before pulling out the change his mother had left him on the counter, “Have you got any new arrivals today? Perhaps a new Pink Floyd vinyl?” He raised his eyebrows expectedly.

Davy chuckled lightly before going behind the counter and picking up the record in all its glory, “They sold out pretty quick, lad, but lucky f’ you i saved one just f’ ya. Knew you’d want it, see.”

Davy held the brand new record in between his nimble, dark fingers, before passing it to Harry; his cod-mouth expression returning once again.  
  
The record cover was plain white with an image in the centre of two men shaking hands, one had his back set on fire. Harry traced it with his finger tips, staring in awe at it. He was sure the image was a metaphor for something- an story that was to be explained throughout the record.  
  
Harry beamed at the grey-haired man, “Thank you so much, oh my gosh. Thank you, thank you.” He repeated in surprise and thanks. He was elated.  
  
“No worries, boy”  
  
Harry pushed his money towards Davy, who gladly took it with a ding of the register. With the sound of The Best Of My Love echoing behind Harry, he held the paper bag with the record in it close to his front, re-counting the change in his other hand.  
  
He wasn’t looking up, a bad trait of Harry’s that was recently discovered, something he definitely had to work on before he knocked a poor woman, or something, over. However just as he was about to look up and pull himself together and walk through the aisles of hit records peacefully with his new prized item in his clutch, he ran into someone.  
  
Inevitable.  
  
The solid chest was one he was too familiar with. The paper bag hit the floor along with Harry. Harry squealed to himself as he picked up the bag, opening it to see if his vinyl was still intact. Thankfully, it was, but that didn’t stop Harry’s raising heartbeat.  
  
“Did you just squeal?” A voice chuckled from above him. A voice that was sweet like honey, light and tender on the ears. It was blue-eyed boy. Louis. Harry wanted the ground to swallow him up. For the blissful singing of John Lennon that was now playing through the store like waves on the ocean, to carry him away, drift him off anywhere but here. He just wanted to dissolve into a puddle, left on the hardwood floor. That’s what he felt like, anyway.  
  
Harry’s ears turned pink with embarrassment as he scrambled up to his feet and dusting himself off, “Um, n-no?”  
  
“Okay,” Louis said, not one bit convinced, “Whats that you’ve got there?” Before Harry could react, the album was deprived from the safety of his hands.  
Louis looked at it with raised eyebrows, inspecting every detail of the cover, “Pink Floyd, eh?”

Harry nodded. Louis stared at Harry then, which made Harry become extremely self-conscious. He played with his denim sleeve and wandered his gaze to anywhere but Louis’ face. Why did he have to make everything so awkward? He shifted uncomfortably under his intense stare beore stuttering out,  
  
“C-can I have it b-back” A moments pause, “please.”  
  
Louis just kept staring, “You’re not wearing your glasses” he observed.  
  
Harry was confused, “N-no. Only wear ‘em for college”  
  
Louis nodded then handed the album back to Harry. The soft brush of his hand against Harry’s, setting his nerves on fire. He shook it off and took the record with a shy “thanks.”  
  
“Never took you for a psychedelic rocker, curly”  
  
Harry blushed from the nickname Louis gave him, “You don’t know me, though” he replied, trying to cover up the deepening red of his cheeks.  
  
“Just ‘av a feelin’, I guess” Louis shrugged, “’m Louis, by the way.”  
  
“I know” Harry said, a bit too quickly. Louis raised an eyebrow as that, his eyes narrowing playfully.  
  
“How? You been stalking me? No wonder you keep running into me.”  
  
Harry was mortified, “N-no, ‘m Harry, friends with Niall. Horan. Niall Horan. He s-“  
  
“Relax, kid. I was just joking.” Louis giggled. Giggled. Harry didn’t know how one boy could be so endearing, “So, Harry,” he spoke again, adjusting his leather jacket over his broadened shoulders, “you know if theres anymore of those records left?”  
  
Harry thought for a second before remembering what Davy had said and then shook his head, “sold out, Davy said”  
  
“Ah. Well, then.” Louis pulled his lips into a thin line and went to make his way past Harry and go further into the store for a second choice.  
  
Harry didn’t know what came over him then. A strip of electric courage coursed through his viens, “you could borrow mine, if you’d like.”

They stared at each other for a moment. A glint of hope was in Harry’s green irises. He focused on remaining strict eye contact with Louis, determined to keep up the plunge of bravery he was gifted in that second.  
  
Louis smirked and was about to speak before a tall boy with light gelled hair and kind brown eyes, wearing a similar jacket to louis’, spoke up,

“Tommo, they’ve restocked on Zeppelin.”

Harry looked at him before looking back Louis with doe-eyes.

Louis kept looking at him before saying, “Sure. See you around, curly.”

“Louis!”

“Alright, alright, i’m coming, Liam” and with that he was gone. Harry stayed a bit longer, looking at the vinyls he wanted to save up for, scanning over the different ones, but kept making eye contact with Louis across the sections. Every time he looked up, his icy eyes were looking straight at him with a mischievous smirk graced upon his face. Harry decided to leave, thinking about those pools of blue as he did so.

-

Until the door slams behind him, Harry barely even realises he was home. He was too absorbed in his new purchase. His bike was turned over on the flower bed on the lawn, long forgotten. He raced into the living room where the record player was. It was fairly old. Wooden with some scratches in it. But nobody minded because it did the job.

Anne watched her son as the faint buzzing of static TV was drowned out by the music, smiling at his reaction to the sound: it was as if he’d never heard music before.

Harry started thinking about how much he knew Louis would love it, even though he didn’t even know the boy. He shrugged it off and tried to concentrate his mind on his new record. But his mind just kept wandering onto the tanned skin and blue eyes, and Harry gave in.

-

As his late grandmother once said, “Harry Edward Styles, i fear the poor woman who eventually marries ya! Quiet as a mouse. She’ll have to do all th’ talkin’!”

Harry was repeating her words in his head as he sat with Niall and his photography friends. He was silent as they sat talking about some polaroid’s they processed of hot girls or something- Harry wasn’t really paying attentions. Instead, he carried on sketching in the back of his fashion design port folio. He was drawing a woman. Soft curves, mousy hair, paired with a floral printed dress. As he was shading in one of the flowers, his pencil snapped.

“Oh no, Styles!” one of Niall’s brain dead friends exclaimed, “Looks like you’re gonna have to talk to us, now!”

Harry rolled his eyes before hearing someone speak behind him.

“Styles, eh?” It was Louis. Of course. He sat down next to Harry, obscenely man-spreading, causing harry to fold into himself to gain back even an ounce of personal space.

“Wait. You’re called ‘Styles’ and you’re a fashion major?” asked the boy who sat down with Louis. Harry is sure that’s Liam. Harry is also sure he hates unnecessary attention on him so he averts his gaze back to his broken pencil and just nodded to the boy.

“Fuckin’ sick.” Liam stated. Harry shyly smiled at him, dimples popping. It’s not often he gets complimented on liking and studying fashion, nor his last name, either.

Although, the moment was short lived as Calvin came over, looking like he had something to say. And the same group of boys from on the bus. Harry sighed. Their waves of greased hair shined under the bright college lights that strung around the school and Harry just wanted the walls to swallow him up.

A feeling he became too familiar with.

“Dunno,” Calvin cockily starts, “bit weird for a boy to be into all that fashion shite.” Harry clenches his eyes shut, as if he’s expecting the next set of words to hit him as hard as they do, “but, then again, not surprising with a queer like ‘im”

Calvin finishes and crushes his can of pop he held on to the table, next to where Niall sat with a shocked expression and hurt eyes, almost like the words were directed towards him. Calvin’s laugh made Harry’s ears ring. He felt like the world was collapsing in on him. He felt shit, so shit. The same wish of being brave enough to fight back, retaliate, crosses his mind again but he sits and does nothing.

“Just fuck off, Calvin” Niall says before standing up and pushing the group away. They comply, clearly seeing the damage they’ve caused due to Harry’s distressed face and seem content. But that doesn’t stop the mumbles of ‘fag’ and ‘sissy’ that muses from the group.

One by one, boys leave the table along with Calvin. Probably not wanting to be associated with Harry in any way. But Harry can’t blame them. He half expects Louis and Liam to run while they can. Run for the hills and get away from the sissy next to them. But they haven’t moved.

Harry looks up at them with glossy eyes. Louis seems to have zoned out, jaw clenched and eyes glazed over. The bright sea of blue seemed to have dimmed as he quietly simmered.

Liam just looked stunned, “What a dick,” he eventually said before shooting an apologetic look to Harry.

Niall got up to comfort Harry. Probably to tell him the usual: ‘don’t listen to ‘em, Haz’, ‘rise above it’, ‘it’ll get better’.

It would be better if Harry could just defend himself and not come across like such a fucking queer. He hated himself. The built up internal rage inside of him was bubbling and he got up and stormed to the toilets before he could hear Niall’s lecture.

He raced through the corridors, just wanting to wash it all out. Get rid of the sick, gut twisting feeling that was forming rapidly in his stomach. He shot open the boys toilet door and ran in. Luckily, nobody was in there and sighed with relief. He walked over to the sink and ran some water, splashing it on his face, trying not to get any on his jumper. He knitted it himself.

Harry glared fixedly on himself in the tiny mirror above the taps.

“Stupid.” He gritted out to himself. His bloodshot eyes drooped sadly and he felt his bottom lip quiver, “stop fucking crying,” he whispered to himself, again. He heard the door creak open and rushed himself into a stall, silent whimpers escaping his mouth as he sat on the toilet seat. Turns out the sobbing boy had a hormonal teenager snogging the face off his girlfriend in the next stall whilst he sat on top of a toilet bowl seeing blurry because of his tears.

Brilliant.

-

Against the faint glow of sunlight coming through the autumnal leaves, clouds gathered behind the tree Harry laid underneath, making patterns and stories as the wind carried them. The warm air brushed up against his face, which was peculiar for a late September day in England. Harry’s chest rose as he breathed calmly under the blaze of the sheltered sun. He sat cross-legged against the bark of the great tree that was located round the back of the art college, where everyone usually ate, but mostly smoked or made out. Harry, however, held a copy of Sula, a book he had read at least twice now, but was still engulfed by every time he read it. He was captivated about the way the two women in the novel knew triumph was forbidden, yet they still set to create it for themselves. Sure, the pages were slightly scruffed, but Harry felt like it just added character. Plus he didn’t have to worry about the condition it would end up if he took it outside, like he was now. The soft ground and rooted daffodils was the only thing that accompanied Harry and he loved moments like this. When he could just relax by himself. Undisturbed.  
  
Until a large blonde head of hair blocked his vision of the page he was reading, “Niall!” Harry exclaimed, motioning towards the book he was reading but Niall paid no thought to it and just carried on lighting the cigarette enveloped between his lips.  
  
“Wondered where you got to, Styles. Been lookin’ f’ ya.” Niall spoke, accent heavy on his words.  
  
Harry just ignored him and arched his eyebrow at Niall, realising the accessory on his face, “Um, where’d you get those sunglasses from? You’ve never worn them before” Harry observed.  
  
Niall shrugged, “Found ‘em outside the library.”  
  
“And why where you outside the library.” Harry challenged, knowing Niall had been up to something.  
  
“Fuckin’ hell. Who are you, the FBI?” The blonde boy smirked slyly. Harry knew Niall had a secret love of his who is always at the library; Jenny. What can he say? He was very observant. And he cared about Niall, they were friends and that meant a lot to Harry so he was always present to what was happening in his life. Niall and Jenny were always on and off because of her very strict parents- and Niall wasn’t exactly a church boy. They were caught kissing goodnight behind her house a few weeks ago, therefore their activity had been a bit quiet recently. But Harry more than anyone knew Niall Horan. And he doesn’t give up, especially when it came to women.  
  
“Niall,” Harry muses, “Did you go see Jenny?”  
  
“Maybe.” He muffled around his cigarette, but the waft of lavender perfume from his jacket made it more than obvious. Harry just shook his head with a chuckle at the boy’s reaction, “Anyways, Styles. I have great news.” Niall wagged his eyebrows after letting out a puff of smoke that followed up past the sheltering leaved, towards the sky.  
  
Before he spoke, he offered Harry a cig, but he politely declined it with a dismissive hand, “Right, so” the irish boy started, “we’ve been invited to Olivia Jones’ infamous birthday party. But this ones gonna be big ‘cause its, like, her eighteenth.” Niall grinned over at Harry who just stared expressionlessly back at him.  
  
“You mean you were invited, not me. I don’t know who she is.” Harry said, running his hand through his hair and averting his attention back to his book, not fazed by Niall’s ‘news’ anymore.  
  
“Um, no, H,” Niall pinched the book from Harry’s hands and Harry pouted in response to the action, not pleased in the slightest, “you are invited. Got us both on the list. Thanks to some magic words by yours truly”

Harry rolled his eyes before giving Niall the ‘are you serious, right now?’ expression. Niall wasn’t kidding. The blonde boy looked into Harry’s emerald eyes with pleading blue ones. Harry’s gut filled with guilt and he tugged thoughtfully on his tight curls, knowing he was already going, for Niall’s sake. He groaned, “ Fine! I’ll guess I’ll go. But you’re picking me up.”  
  
Niall cheered and playfully nudged Harry with his knuckled, “Of course! You’re the best, Styles” Like Harry believed that. He just gave a forceful smile before collecting up his stuff after hearing the echoing of the bell from outside.  
  
Harry enjoyed class. If anything, he felt like it was a safe place for him to unwind his creativity, free of judgement. The only people he showed his work too was the teacher, Mrs Andrews (an old, ivory haired woman with skin as delicate as paper, with a voice full of delightful compliments to give Harry’s work) and occasionally, Niall. He sometimes showed his mum if she wasn’t busy at work when he came home, but that was rare. Harry didn’t mind, though- he loved his mother. It wasn’t her fault she had to work lots of hours, she was a single parent and Harry was very understanding of that.  
  
The class was only small, the capacity of around 12 people, in which Harry was the only boy. He didn’t mind, though, the girls were all lovely to him. They constantly showed interest in his designs and encouraged him willingly. Niall says he’s lucky because they all want to ‘bone him and his curly locks,’ but Harry doesn’t think so.  
  
Right now, he’s stitching up a red velvet material that’s pinned upon a docile mannequin that the school have supplied. When the class had finished, Harry figured he should stay and try and get the pinching perfect around the waistline of the jacket he had created. It was a deep maroon, velvet blazer with golden stitching. Harry had this design ever since he envisioned Bowie singing Starman in a full velvet suit when he was listening to it on his radio as he fell asleep. Originally, his image was royal purple coloured, but the school only had dark red in the chosen material, so he settled with that. But he grew to like it.  
  
“Coming along nicely, Harry.” Mrs Andrews smiled with kind eyes, adjusting her spectacles over her eyes so she could see the details of Harry’s work.  
  
“Thank you , miss. Means a lot.” He returned while carrying on crafting the piece of clothing.  
  
“I see,” she said, “look, Harry, I have no problem with you staying here, I just have to warn you,” Harry stopped working and looked up to meet her eyes, “I have a student in here for detention since the other rooms are full. Hope you don’t mind, dear.”  
  
“No, no, that’s fine” Harry reassured, “ill be at the other side of the room anyway. No problem.”  
  
Mrs Andrews gave him a grateful grin and traipsed back to her desk, her long cream skirt trailing behind her. Harry carried on with what he was doing before he heard the classroom door open. The sound of the heavy door against the floor cut through the comfortable silence. Harry’s head snapped towards the door where he was met with the sight of Louis Tomlinson. His eyes darted over his stature; fringe was pushed across his forehead, longer since the last time he saw him, cropped trousers paired with a cream patterned polo with a single button undone underneath his signature black leather jacket he seemed to never have off his back.  
  
Louis broke the quiet with a casual, “Mrs Andrews.” As he walked towards the back bench next to all the sewing machines. Harry didn’t realise he was staring until he saw the corner of Louis’ mouth quirk upwards, obviously feeling the curly-haired boys gaze on him. Harry quickly ripped his eyes away and back on to his jacket.  
  
Mrs Andrews was reading a magazine, folded on her lap, unfazed, until her phone began to ring. She answered with a hesitant, “Hello?” before her talking became fast paced and distressed. Harry could hear the coupled squabbling on the other side of the phone due to the silent room. She pinched the bridge of her nose as her eyebrows furrowed together.  
  
Raising from her desk she said, “boys, I’ve been called down to help with a student fight. The third one this bloomin’ week!” she groaned and headed for the door, “I’ll be back in around twenty minutes. Tomlinson, stay exactly where you are. Harry, make sure he doesn’t leave, please darlin’. I will be back.” And with that she slammed the door behind her, causing the paintings on the wall to shake at the sheer force. For an old lady, she had some strength.  
  
“’Darlin’, huh?” Louis mimicked. Oh god, Harry forgot he was also in the room as well, despite his eyes being trained on him the whole time. Harry just ignored him and concentrated on the velvet blazer, hoping that he’d get the hint to leave him be.  
  
Obviously, Louis had other plans, “You ignoring me, Harry?”  
  
“No” Harry mumbled out, thread between his teeth as he snapped a good portion of it off to use on the buttons of his jacket. Its not that he didn’t want to speak to Louis, it’s just the fact that he practically sat and watched Harry get called every name under the sun by a greaser boy and be utterly embarrassed in front a large group. So, sue him from wanting to keep himself to himself.  
  
Louis rose from his seat and made his way over to Harry, gingerly gliding his hands over the wooden table surfaces. Harry didn’t pay much attention until Louis was stood over him, his tapping foot in his direct eye line. Harry rapidly stood up after instantly realising the blue-eyed boy was there.  
  
“Whatcha doin’?” Louis asked, bored.  
  
Harry ignored his question, “Mrs Andrews said you had to stay over there.” He told him before realising he probably sounded like a teachers pet.  
  
“’N whose gonna tell her I moved?” Louis challenged back and then started touching Harry’s jacket he was in the midst of correcting.  
  
“Please can you not do that?” Harry pleaded, just wanting to finish the jacket so he could go home as soon as possible.  
  
Louis ignored him, which was fair considering Harry did the exact same thing to him, “I like it. Very Bowie.” He complimented.  
  
“Thanks,” Harry blushed, “that was the vision.”  
  
“Well you achieved it. You gonna try it on?” Louis questioned, looking at Harry with raised eyebrows, waiting for an answer.  
  
“Uh, n-no. I don’t usually wear the things I make, unless I knit myself a good enough jumper” Harry murmurs.  
  
Louis lets out a short laugh, “you knit? What are you, seventy?”  
  
A swirling pang of embarrassment brews in Harry’s stomach, suddenly becoming hot and flushed, “’m seventeen.”  
  
Louis inspected Harrys features before looking back to the velvet blazer, “Well, if your not gonna wear ’t” He shrugged off his leather jacket, exposing his sun kissed biceps.  
  
Harry watched for a moment, “What are you doing?”  
  
“Puttin’ the jacket on. What else?” Louis grins back. Harry wants to stop him, but he cant. The thought of Louis in one of his designs makes butterflies erupt in the pit of his stomach and he gets overwhelmed with pride in himself at the fact that somebody like Louis wanted to wear something he made.  
  
The jacket fit him like a glove. It was just a bit tight around his broad shoulders, but Harry knew it could easily altered to taste. He smiled at the jacket, proud of himself.  
  
“Like what you see, Styles?” Louis quizzed, spinning around playfully, showing himself off.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, “ I mean I did make it.” Louis chuckled and Harry joined in. Louis started joking around more, doing an Elvis impression and holding an imaginary mic, pretending he was a global rock star.“You suit it,” Harry rushed out .  
  
“The jacket or being a rock star?” Louis said, a teasing smile gracing his lips.  
  
“Both.” Harry breathed out, making eye contact with Louis. Those captivating pools of blue that sucked Harry in every time. Cool tones of grey and silver lining around his glowing iris’. He felt himself sinking slowly, calmly, as Louis blinked back at Harry’s eyes of wonder.  
  
“Right, boys, you can go now.” Neither of the boys noticed Mrs Andrews arrival back, but once they did Harry coughed awkwardly as Louis took off the blazer and putting it back on to the mannequin.  
  
“Bye” Harry mumbled to no one in particular and brushed past Louis quickly, making his way out the college.  
  
“Wait, Harry” Harry looked back to see Louis with a hopeful look spread across his face.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Here’s my home line. Just for when I wanna, y’know. Borrow that Floyd record of yours” He said, passing Harry a crumpled up piece of yellow-washed paper with digits written on in chicken scratch hand writing.  
  
Harry blinked up at him, “um, okay.” He tried not to think much of it and just shoved the piece of paper in his back pocket.  
  
“See you later, Styles” Louis smiled before leaving Harry in the middle of the corridor in awe of what just happened. Finally, he’s broken his streak of being un-friendable. He grinned as he walked out of the college and waking towards his bike and placing his bag design book in the basket at the front and thought about Louis the full journey home.

When Harry gets to his house, eventually, he can hear the soft playing of Bohemian Rhapsody crackling through his mothers radio, bouncing off the kitchen walls.  
  
“Sweetheart! You’re home!” She exclaims as she kisses his cheek dramatically.  
  
“Sorry, mum, I was finishing off some things at school.”Anne just nodded and carried on humming along to the station that was playing. Harry looked at her for a second, tracing his thoughts back to Louis giving him that slip of paper. He fumbled in his back pocket for it and just stared at the digits and went over hem with his nimble fingers.  
  
“What’s that, honey?” his mother asked, then proceeding to take the paper from Harry, grinning as she saw it was a phone number, “you got a girlfriend you haven’t introduced me too?”  
  
Harry was mortified as he stumbled over his words, “N-no! just a friend from college. He’s called Louis.” He confused himself to why he was giving her so much information about the boy, but his mother just glared at him playfully, before kissing him goodbye and heading out to work.  
  
Harry sighed with relief as he heard the door close and lock and headed over to the telephone that was plugged in next to the radio. He switched the station off, perching himself on the counter.  
  
He doesn’t know why, but he starts getting nervous as he dials in each digit carefully into the telephone. He twists the phone wire around his finger anxiously, tucking his bottom lip between his lips.  
  
The line finally stops ringing and there is a quiet buzz from the other end of the call and then a high-pitched, “’Ello?”  
  
Harry is snapped out of a nervous daze and he replies with a weary, “Um hi, is this Louis?”  
  
“Yup! Who is this, sorry?” Harry suddenly feels stupid.  
  
“Oh, yeah, sorry, no, this is, uh, Harry? Harry Styles.“ His voice cracks on the last word.  
  
“Oh, Harry!” Louis voice is as sweet as sugar as it melts in Harry’s ears, “how can I help?”  
  
Then, Harry’s mind goes blank. Realising the only reason he called was to hear Louis’ voice. However, he pushes that thought to the back of his mind and forms a response, “Do you wanna maybe come round, “ he pauses, “to borrow the record, of course”  
  
“Um, yeah,” Louis seems taken aback, “I mean, right now?”  
  
Harry lets out a nervous laugh, “I mean, tomorrow’s lunch, maybe. If you’re free, that s. I don’t wanna bother you”  
  
“No, that’s fine.” Louis chuckles lightly from the other line.  
  
“Oh, okay” Harry says, surprised at how easy it was to invite him round like that, “I’ll see you tomorrow then, yeah?” A hopeful tone laced itself within his voice.  
  
“Sure. See you then, Styles” and then the line cuts off just as Harry mumbles a ‘goodbye’ down the phone. He puts the phone back with a clank due to excitement and runs upstairs, putting on one of his grandfather’s Beach Boys cassettes on. What? it’s a classic choice for a good mood. That’s Harry’s excuse, anyway.

He wasn’t expecting the blue-eyed boy to be so willing to come round his house. He wasn’t the most friendliest of people, at least his reputation wasn’t. Harry was just glad he saw past that and wanted to spend time with him because as much as he hated to admit it, Harry really like Louis’ company and over the short period of time he’s known him, he’s always felt excited and liberated when he’s next to him. The aura of the dangerous, deep eyes must just be infectious, he decides.

That night, Harry falls asleep while his nose is in a book. Moved on to some new Roald Dahl novel he found when he was clearing up his room the other day. The delicate sound of leaves brushing up against his window can be heard as he falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-

It’s 1pm and Harry is starving. He’s been waiting outside for fifteen minutes, continuously checking his watch like a nervous twitch. Louis caught him earlier this morning outside of the photography department when Harry was passing through, telling him to meet him by the big oak tree at 1pm to go to his house for lunch. Harry knows that classic oak tree, it’s his favourite spot to read at in the whole college. But now, he’s not relaxed like he usually is here, he’s anxious. He’s scuffing his sneakers against the ground, forming swirly grass stains on the white colour, sipping loudly out of his orange juice carton, counting the daisies beneath his feet out of boredom.

He sees Louis approach and can feel his heartbeat in his ears. He already knows his face has flushed rose so he shakes his head briefly, to snap himself out of it. Louis looks good. He’s pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and lit it between his pink lips. Harry notices he’s wearing a fur-collared, blue-washed denim jacket instead of his staple leather. He can’t decide which one he likes more on him, though.

“Harry!” Louis cheers when he sees the curly-haired boy.

Harry gives a shy smile, “Hi Louis.”

“You ready?”

Harry tenderly nods and follows behind Louis- who seems to be going in a complete opposite direction to the bus stop.

“Uh, Louis?” Louis turns around with raised eyebrows, waiting for Harry to speak on, “the bus stop is over there.”

“The bus stop?” Louis scoffs. Harry goes red. “We’re not going on the bus, Styles. I’ll be your ride,” he finishes, pulling keys out of his denim pocket.

He presses the button and Harry sees a motorbike headlights flash. It’s Louis’.

Harry suddenly gets really nervous, “I can’t go on that,” he rushes out, heart beating fast at the very thought of being on one of those bikes. His grandmother called them ‘hell’s transport’ and that’s not something Harry thinks sounds pleasant.

“And why not?” Louis retorts, putting out his cigarette on the floor. He tries to stutter out a response, but the words get caught in his throat, “are you scared of motorbikes, Harry?”

Harry nods.

“Ah, well it’s okay. It’s completely safe when i’m driving it. No wheelies or shit like that. ‘M responsible, y’know.” Louis reassures and Harry just smiles nervously back at him, trying to pluck up the courage.

Before he can second guess what he’s doing, Louis is putting a helmet on his head, flattening his curls.

“Hop on.” Louis invites, patting the seat of the bike.

“You’ve only got one helmet.” Harry states the obvious.

“And you’ve got two workin’ eyes,” Louis says, “Now, what’s your address?”

Harry panics, “you have to wear a helmet, w-what if something happens.”

Louis just ignored what he was saying and climbed on his bike, revving up the engine, “Get on, Harry.”

Harry sighed before clambering on, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist tightly. He didn’t know what the anchor of nerves in his bellies was; the direct contact from Louis or the fact he was on a motorcycle. It weighed heavy on him and he breathed rapidly. He mumbled his address to Louis and he simply nodded before steering them both out of the college entrance area, on to the main street.

A cool breeze drifted past Harry’s exposed neck as his shirt collar caught in the wind. The air was refreshing against his milky skin, the faster the bike got, the colder the wind became. It nipped at Harry’s hands, making his knuckles red against Louis’ white t-shirt. The bike drove over a bump and Harry let out a squeak and tightened his grip around Louis’ waist. Louis let out a laugh before glancing behind at Harry, twisting his helmet-less head ever so slightly. Harry couldn’t help but note at how his hair flew out of his face and brushed against the blue sky in light wisps. His nerves seemed to have vanished then, lost in the canvas of the sky and Louis’ silhouette driving in front of him. A windswept vision of freedom.

Louis parked the bike outside of Harry’s lawn, opposite the small flower bed before letting Harry lead the way into his house. He raised a plant pot and got the spare key his mum leaves for him under there.

He notices how his hands shake as he puts the key in the lock, cursing himself as Louis lets out a cloud of smoke from his lips along with a soft laugh, “you okay there, ‘arry?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah.” He breathes out before the door becomes loose and he pushes it open.

Louis strides in front of him, eyes wandering over the cream wallpaper of Harry’s home, “you got anywhere i can put this?” he motioned to the cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“What? Oh!,” Harry passed him the ashtray on the kitchen counter. His mother used it when she was stressed, “just in there.”

Louis mumbled a ‘thanks’ as the end of the tab sizzled between them both.

“Lead me to the records, Styles.” Harry has moved the vinyl player in his room (without his mum noticing, which is an achievement in itself.)

“It’s just in my room, upstairs” Harry says.  
  
“What y’ cat’s name?” Louis asked as they both walked up the carpeted stairs. Harry looked down and realised Rosie was weaving herself between Louis’ legs. She was purring and sniffing around where he stood on the step.  
  
“Rosie” Harry replies, “I think she likes you.” He lets out a small chuckle at the cats actions.  
  
Louis looked at Harry and smiled, “yeah, I think she does.” Harry ducked his head and picked Rosie up, her letting out a meow in shock, before nuzzling her head into his chest.  
  
He lead Louis through his white-painted door that had Ziggy Stardust and Stones posters scattered on the back of it, “its just over there, with all the records” he gestured to the corner of his room as he placed Rosie on his bed where she curled up and snuggled into his duvet.  
  
“Fuckin’ hell, Harry, your collection is huge.” Harry blushed, “You secretly rich or summit?” Louis joked, sitting next to Harry and Rosie on the bed.  
  
Harry shook his head, “Nah, most of them are hand-me-downs from relatives.”  
  
Louis reached over Harry’s lap, grabbing his LP of rubber soul, “Sorry,” he said as he realised he was sprawled over Harry’s knees, “I just love this album,” he explained as he traced his fingers over the orange font.  
  
“N-no, its fine,” Harry almost whispered lifting up the Pink Floyd album and showing it to Louis, “here, i’ll put Wish You Were Here on now, yeah?” He nodded back . Harry placed the record carefully on the player, the putting the needle on top, creating a crackle before the music started playing. Louis bopped his head slightly as it started. Harry giggled.  
  
“You laughing at me?” Louis playfully interrogated.  
  
“Its just not exactly, y’ know” Harry said, “head-bopping music.”  
  
Louis gasped, “anything can be head-bop worthy if you let it” Harry just laughed him off as they both zoned in on the music playing again.  
  
It was weirdly intimate. Louis’ knees brushed up against Harry’s unconsciously. They both stared at the hypnotic spin of the record as the music poured out the speaker like liquid gold. Entrancing. Harry felt like his entire body was glowing. With each of Louis’ subtle movements, he felt like he was on fire. Harry felt sparks ignite all over him. Louis booked his ankle over Harry’s, a small gesture. When he looked over, his eyes were trained on the spinning record. He wondered if Louis had even meant to do the intimate action or if it was just compulsory and Harry was overthinking. But he blushed, nevertheless.  
  
As the first side of the record came to a stop they both got up at the same time to switch it over.  
  
“Sorry” they spoke in unison as their hands knocked each others.

Louis looked at Harry in the eyes, locking him in. Harry doesn’t get how he always does that.  
  
“Are we friends now, Harry?” Louis softly asks. His voice like summer rain, making Harry’s heart blossom. Depends, Harry thinks, Will friends let me hold your hand whenever I want? Kiss me in the middle of the street? Dance with me even when theres no music playing, just to be closer? Do friends do that?  
  
“I don’t really have many friends, besides Niall” He replies, “but, yes. Friends would be nice, I think.”“You think?” Louis raises an eyebrow, “playing hard to get, Styles. The girls must swoon for you.” Harry lets out an uncomfortable cough.  
  
Girls.  
  
Harry’s knocked back into reality and breaks away eye contact with Louis befoe getting up from his bed quickly, earning an annoyed meow from Rosie. Louis pats her head as Harry turns over the record, looking confusedly over at the green-eyed boy. But he shrugged it off as Harry sat pack down and Rosie curled in his lap, purring softly and the music buzzed around the room once again.  
  
_Were just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl,  
Year after year,  
Runnin’ over the same old ground,  
What have we found?  
The same old fears,  
Wish you were here._


	2. Part Two

Harry has no clue why he is here.

Olivia Jones had decided to have her eighteenth birthday party just outside of the city inside some grand hall in the Wirral. Harry hasn’t been here since his grandmothers funeral. He doesn’t understand how a place with a morbid slot in his memory lane has turned into this nerve-wrecking party scene he  really doesn’t want to be at. The people passing him smell of weed and hair wax. Niall being one of them, but it’s Niall and Harry loves him. He doesn’t know the rest of these people. 

“Ready, H?” Niall asks with a suggestive tone before dragging him in by his arm before he had chance to respond. 

Truth is, Harry wasn’t ready. He’d much rather be cooped up in his bedroom with acup of coffee with Rosie cuddled into his side and a book in his lap, listening to Patsy Cline, or something. Not under the stern beams of blinding dance lights on a glossy dance floor with drunk, hormonal teens.

Nevertheless, he followed Niall inside. He had tried to ‘dress up’, per se, for this event. And by ‘dress up’ he means not wearing a high-neck, knitted jumper and jean flares. No. Instead he scrubbed up with a white polo, rolled up black jeans (much more fitted) and a denim jacket. Niall wolf whistling him wasn’t worth it, by the way.

Harry already wanted to leave when he got a waft of the scent of beer and sweat. He tried to dismiss it, to bare it and be here with Niall, but it was so difficult. As he scanned the place, he saw no familiar faces. Just blank heads with features and noise woven together by the Bee-Gees and strobe lights.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Harry jumped out of his skin, then whipped his head around, panicked. It was Louis, his blue eyes like magnets. 

“Louis” he breathed out. Louis just smiled at him.

“Niall! Harry!” It was Liam, “nice seeing you both, isn’t it, Lou?” 

“Lovely.” Louis gritted. Harry gave a him a quizzical look. Did he not want to be near Harry?

“Lads!” Niall’s voice rung through Harry’s ears making him alert, “you gettin’ a drink?” Liam nodded and leaned over to Niall.

Louis however gave adismissive hand, “Nah, i think i’m gonna go for a smoke.” And with that he was gone. Harry stayed glued to Niall’s side as the three boys wandered over to the stand full of alcoholic drinks and lighters. 

Niall kept buying Harry drinks to ‘loosen him up.’ Which was a good idea until everything around Harry was swirling into liquid neon. Blurred faces were moving too fast, bumping into him as they travelled. Harry’s hair was dishevelled and sticking to his forehead as he became more clammy, but there wasn’t enough room to take his jacket off in the cramped capacity. He lost Niall a while ago as he was sucked into the hurricane of bodies that turned and span like the room seemed to.

Harry made it towards the door where he saw the moonlight shine through. He needed air. It was becoming too much for him and he just needed to breathe. On the way, he passed intoxicated boys with their hands up girls skirts as they snogged passionately against the building frames. Lines of white powder being set out with beer mats and car keys. People cheering and laughing as they kept taking gulps from their plastic cups of poison. Harry didn’t get it. 

As soon as he got outside, the cool wind lightly dispersed around his body, bringing his senses back to life. He sat on one of the brick ledges, feet dangling off the side of the building. If Harry was a bit more sober, he knew he wouldn’t be doing this, even if it was only an 8ft drop. The cold nipped at his nose, painting it a crimson red and he wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly overwhelmed at the icy temperature.

A presence was felt beside him. Harry say the shadow against the bricks and the. the silhouette said, “Mind if i join you?” 

That familiar voice Harry has grown to recognise anywhere. Sweet as treacle.

“Hi Louis” He mumbled as the boy sat beside him, nudging his shoulder with his, “Where’ve you been?”

Louis laughed slightly, lighting a tab and blowing smoke in the opposite way of Harry, “out ‘ere. Countin’ stars, i guess”

“Hm,” Harry thought aloud, “I love stars.”

“Is that so?” Louis asked, a playful smile tugging on his lips.

“Yup,” Harry slurs, “look like diamonds. Or pearls. Wanna put ‘em on a dress and dance around and sing ‘n stuff. Starman,but like real stars. And a real man. Me. I’m the real man.”

Louis looks at him, clearly endeared by Harry’s drunk rambles, “dance around in a dress, huh? Cute.”

“‘M not cute” Harry insists, “i’m manly.” Harry flexes his arms dramatically, before slumping them down and swaying from side to side. A soft blush spread across his cheeks.

“You’ve had a lot to drink, ‘m assumin’” Louis observes. 

Harry scoffs, “No. ‘M fine.” However, the way he was leaning into Louis’ side and humming to himself and his beer laced breath was very contradictory. 

Louis sniggered at his behaviour and stood up from the ledge. Harry whined at the loss of his presence at his side.

“Louuuu.” Harry mused. 

“Calm down, darlin’. I was just gonna offer you a ride home. You’re out of ‘t!” Louis countered. Harry’s brain scanned over one word. 

Darlin’ , Darlin’ , Darlin’. 

Only kind old women and his mother called him that. But he preferred Louis calling him that. It set off a storm of butterflies in his belly, fluttering around making him giddy.

He jumped up to Louis’ side, swaying still, “‘M not going on that bike of yours like this.” He trailed off getting lost in Louis’ eyes once more.

Louis breathed out a laugh, “Don’t worry, 

i borrowed my dads car.”

Harry gave him a pleased look and stood at Louis’ side. He should probably tell Niall, but he didn’t care right now. He just wanted to be with Louis, breathing in his scent and analysing his features under the cool moonlight. It should be intimidating, really. The sharpness of his cheekbones, dusted with fine stubble that Harry wanted to touch. Hair like cinnamon that he wanted to run his ringers through and memorize the different traces he could make. And those eyes,  God,  those eyes. Harry could be in the most, high class art expedition, dazzled sculptures and intricate painting orbiting him, yet he’d still rather stare in the depths of Louis’ blue,  blue,  eyes. In that moment, he decided, it was his favourite colour.

When Louis led him out the hall, his hand rested just above the small of Harry’s back. He couldn’t help but feel the spark he felt that shot shivers up his spine to the back of his ears, flushing them pink. It was like a thousand bolts of lightning being injected into his bloodstream. He tried to assume it was just the drink intake that made him feel this way. But he knew it wasn’t beer, he was intoxicated by Louis’ touch.

The Doors  swirled through his ears and alcohol swirled through his veins as he was guided to the front doors.

Once they got outside, Louis grabbed Harry’s face to look at him in the eyes. His green eyes were hooded and glazed over as Louis inspected them. He tried to shift his gaze, “Harry, look at me,” Louis urged, taking a bottle of water he grabbed on the way out to Harry’s lips, “Drink this and sober up.”

“I’m not thirsty” Harry tried, but took a sip, anyways.

Louis watched him as he took more gulps of the water, “look,” he spoke softly, “I’ve only got enough gas to go to my house, my dad will kill me if his car breaks down. Is it alright if you come home with me?”

Harry felt high. Not on drugs but pure adrenalin. The water got rid of his dizziness and he no longer felt queasy. He took a deep breath before replying, “yeah, ‘s fine.”

Louis unlocked the car then, and helped Harry into the passenger seat before going to the drivers side. As they set off, Harry switched through the different stations on the radio that was taped on to the dashboard to keep himself occupied. He settled on some 50’s jazz song and stared out the window at the midnight sky. Louis was silent next to him, focusing on driving home safely. He let out soft gusts of breaths before rolling the window down so he could smoke, but not before asking Harry, “is this alright with you?”

Of course Harry assured him it was. And as the streetlights got clearer, Louis stopped the car outside a small house, from the front it looked about two bedrooms big. It had a small garden, sectioned off with a painted-white fence and an old wooden gate.

“Home sweet home” Louis sighed as he pushed the door open, then turning around and locking it, “excuse the boxes.”

Harry trailed himself against the wall, yawning, afraid all the alcohol was catching up to him.

“Here, let’s take y’ upstairs” Louis offered, a shy smile on his face. Harry loved it when he switched from intimidating to soft in just a second. It was like Louis was a puzzle that was begging to be solved. An item crafted by the god’s to quiz humanity.

Louis’ bedroom was small, but it was lovely. There was a cassette player (bigger than Harry’s) sat on a desk as soon as you walked in. Louis gestured to Harry to sit on his bed and threw him a change of clothes to sleep in.

Harry wasn’t  that  drunk, “Um, do you have a bathroom I could get ready in?”

Louis nodded as he sat on his bay window, cigarette in his hand, “down the hall, t’ the right”

Louis’ clothes were slightly too big on him. The lounging shorts went up to his knees and the  Stones t-shirt reached his mid-thigh. He traipsed back in, sleepy eyes and bitten red lips, absolutely exhausted, “I hate beer.” He stated with a slight giggle.

Louis laughed too and let out a puff of smoke, the smell of ash, musk and something else, sickly sweet, filling the air.

There’s a moment of quiet before Harry spoke up, “Louis” The blue eyed boy hums in response, “Why’d you move to Liverpool?”

Louis’ eyes went as cold as steel. His whole body stiffened on the bay window and he twisted his cigarette stub into the ash tray next to him.

“Go to sleep, Harry.” He stated, ignoring Harry’s initial question. A cold tone mixed within his voice, almost frightening Harry, but he obliged. Tucked himself into the covers and before asking where Louis would be sleeping he dozed off in his own head, eyes fluttered shut and mouth slightly agape.

-

Harry was awoken shuffling at the end of the bed. He turned over, still sleep-induced, breathing in the scent of cotton, a smell of boy and sweetness lingering in it. Harry’s eyes fluttered open to see navy sheets, nothing like is own white ones. He shot up as his brain processed that he was still in Louis’ bed, thwacking his head off the bed frame.

“You alright?” Louis asks. He was tying his shoe laces with a leather jacket draped over his arm, like he was getting reading to leave.

“Uh, yeah” Harry managed, “Um, are you going anywhere?”

“Yeah, just out. Didn’t wanna wake you. Keys on the shelf for when you wanna let y’self out. M’ dad will be home at about 10, though, so make sure you’ve gone before then.”

Harry was bewildered. Why was he in such a rush to leave Harry in  his house?

“ Where you going?” Harry asked, disappointed he was leaving without telling him. He couldn’t but notice the sinking weight in his stomach, weighing him down like an anchor as Louis just shrugged.

“Just out, Harry.” And flashed the boy a reassuring smile, that didn’t calm Harry down at all.

“Can i come with you?” Harry breathed out, like he was afraid to ask.

Louis just raised his eyebrows suspiciously at him, “do you have no other plans today?”

Harry shrugged, moving his curls out of his eyes, “was just gonna read or something.”

“Of course you were,” Louis laughed, “well the train to doncaster leaves in fourth-five minutes so you better hurry up and get ready.” And with that Harry was left in Louis’ room with a stack of clothes he got told to put on that would fit him better whilst his clothes from last night were washed.  Oh no,  Harry thought. He thought Louis would be going to the park or something not Doncaster. He shook his thoughts away and went along with it anyway. Something about being with Louis all day didn’t seem  too bad.

Harry felt uncomfortable in black jeans and a white t-shirt. It wasn’t very like him, but Louis let him borrow that fur-collared denim jacket that he loved, so he put up with it.

“You ready?” Louis asked, looking Harry up and down. Harry blushed under his stare. He mumbled a ‘yeah’ before walking out of the door, following behind Louis as they paced to the station. Harry didn’t know what he was doing, but he didn’t seem to worry when he was next to the sun kissed boy beside him.

The train journey was a combination of awkward glances and faint hand-brushes as it was a cramped train for the duration. Harry kept looking at his feet while Louis flashed tight smiles and small apologies as people tried to get past them.

Harry observed people on the train. Their different outfits: ranging from suits to flares with crazy patterns engraved on them and fur waistcoats. Everyone seemed to be so different and it was refreshing for him to see.

Louis notices Harry’s wandering eyes and tapped his arm, gaining his attention, “you look good in my clothes.”

Harry just looked back at him wide eyed. They seemed closer than before, but then drifted as the train stopped and people got off. Harry held his breath as Louis kept watching him before they finally stepped off the platform, Harry following behind, twiddling his fingers.

“You okay, Harry?”

He shook his head, “I’m nervous. I should go home. I don’t know where i am.”

“Hey, hey, hey” Louis rushed as he noticed Harry’s rambling becoming frantic, “calm down, yeah? ‘M right here. Just visiting some friends of mine. You’ll like them.” Harry looks into his eyes, looking for something to cling on to and all that’s looking back at him is bright blue trust.

-

“Where are we?” Harry moans as he kicks the twigs beneath his feet. Louis has led them down a ‘shortcut’ through the woods. He said it was a place he used to sneak to when he was little, wispy hair dancing in the wind, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to memorise the trail.

“It’s here i’m telling you,” Louis started as a house began to show among the misty air in the distance, “right here”

Harry looked at the big house. It seemed quiet, secluded, “What is it?”

“You’ll see. Come on!” Louis urged as he gripped Harry’s arm, pulling him towards the porch as they ran. Harry noticed the spark that happened like that night at Olivia Jones’ birthday party and he couldn’t help but wonder if Louis could feel it too, or if he was insane. Either way, his skin was glowing, and he couldn’t ignore it as he was shoved up the porch of the house. 

“Now I need to tell you something, these people you’re about to meet aren’t like the ones back in Liverpool, okay?” Louis warned, looking into Harry’s soul, “they’re very… expressive, lets say. Very outspoken and… different. Yeah, just different.”  
  
Harry panicked, worried he wont meet up to their standards, “Will they like me?”

Louis scoffed, “who couldn’t like you, Harry?” Harry felt his cheeks heat up, “they aren’t like people like Calvin, okay? Trust me.” He let out a breath of laughter at his last words and Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, about to question him, but then the house door swung open, almost hitting Louis’ back.

“Tomlinson!” A raven-haired boy exclaimed in excitement before practically lifting Louis of the ground in a hug, kissing his cheek. Harry gasped, the feeling of curiosity and something else shooting through his body. He had never seen two men show affection like that before. The TV always told him when he was younger that it was wrong, an insult to yourself. Preachers used to go around Harry’s block with Bible’s ever since Kathy Kozachenko was the first gay person elected into the American public office in early last year. They protested against the rights of the queer community and the names to describe these certain people were labelled with hate and disgust. Insults Harry had received plenty of times, just for liking fashion and being quiet. He never got the stigma around gay people and why they were so bad, Harry thought they were just people. Just like everyone else.

“Harry?” Louis snapped him out of his train of thought, “this is my good old friend, Zayn.” The tanned boy stretched his arm out for Harry to shake, which Harry accepted hesitantly.

“Old friend.” Zayn mocks with a wink, “nice to meet you, kid.” Zayn was beautiful. He had a soft smile and stubble around his jaw. A shirt decorated with orange swirls hung, unbuttoned, off his shoulders with white shorts against his tanned skin. He also had brown eyes, like a river of chocolate, but they didn’t compare to Louis’ ocean ones.

When Harry walked in behind Louis and Zayn, who had their arms wrapped around each others shoulders muttering to themselves, he could smell strong weed. Harry had never smoked it, but he knew that scent. Again, he was close friends with Niall.

The whole room was dim due to the curtains being drawn. It was crowded, all types of people spilling out of every corner. The all dressed like Zayn, but in an individual way. Different colours and patterns being thrown about, miss-matched. The embodiment of camp on every gender, structure and personality. Harry looked round , starry-eyed. He was fascinated.

Eventually, they sat down on an auburn leather couch that wasn’t too far raised from the carpet. The coffee table in front of him had newspapers, from different dates, with ashtrays scattered on top of them. Harry sat close-legged, his hands in his lap, looking at them wearily.

“So, Harry,” Zayn took a drag of his blunt before talking directly to Harry’s nervous self, “Louis tells me you’re his friend.”

Louis gives him a small smile that indicates that he’s good to talk and it isn’t some trap where he’d end up buried in the Yorkshire Dales for saying the wrong things to the wrong people, “Yeah, were friends.”  
  
Zayn let out a content ‘huh’ before putting his spliff out in the ash tray, “you know me and Louis are great friends” Harry didn’t miss the suggestive tone slipping out of his lips, “really good friends.”  
  
“Zayn.” Louis warned playfully.

“So good, we used to be much  more  that friends, ‘f you know what I mean” Zayn wagged his eyebrows in Harry’s direction. Harry couldn’t help the red hot jealousy that coursed through him. He dug his nails into his skin, hoping the pressure would distract him from the sickly feeling he was experiencing; he had never felt this before and he doesn’t understand why he was feeling it now. Unless-

“Harry?” Louis asked once he was finished laughing with Zayn and reminiscing over old memories, “are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry, ‘m quite thirsty actually, have you got any water?” Harry stumbled out to Zayn. The dark-haired boy raised his eyebrows in a  ‘are you serious?’  way before Louis nudged him off the couch to get Harry a bottle of water. The thing is Harry just wanted to be alone with Louis. Even if they weren’t speaking, he just wanted to admire him. Watch his tiniest of movements and make notes of every one of them. He was just so endeared by the beautiful boy.

Louis sat directly opposite Harry, taking a swig of, what looked to be, beer, “I rang your house phone, by the way. Left a message for your mum, figured she’d want to know why her boy wasn’t upstairs reading with his cat.” He laughed lightly, “Zayn let me borrow his telephone f’ a sec. Think were gonna be sleeping round ‘cause its getting late” Harry visually tensed at his name, “Harry are you really okay?” Louis reached out to touch Harry and Harry let him.

“Why does Zayn have so many people living in his house?” Harry questioned.

Louis chuckled “it’s a community of people and Zayn just happens to care a lot about them, so they come over for gatherings sometimes. A safe space to be themselves.”

“What kind of community?” Harry quizzed.

“God, you do ask a lot of questions, Styles.” Louis jokes, but Harry looked back with the same curious stare, Louis sighed, “the LGBT community.”  
  
A moments pause ,”Oh”, Harry squeaked out, “and are you part of that community?”

Louis just smiled back at Harry, “wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” Louis leaned further in and Harry’s breath hitched, until they were interrupted by Zayn’s booming laugh.

“Right, lads,” he announced, handing Harry a bottle of water, “bed time. I’ve got important business to run tomorrow so while I chase these kids out, Louis you know where your room is, go show little ‘Arry.”  
  
“Aye, aye captain” Louis sniggered, before walking upstairs, signalling Harry to follow behind him.

The room Louis led the too had two single beds and a record player, making Harry’s eyes light up before he ran over there instantly.

“Knew that’d be the first thing you see” Louis mutters loud enough so Harry can hear. Harry blushes before flicking through the record collection.  Wings, Janis Ian, Fleetwood Mac,  Harry felt like he was in heaven. He picked up one of his favourite  The Kinks  album and played it softly while Louis watched him.

As the music started playing, Harry swayed happily, like when he was drunk. It seems that only Louis catches him in these moments.

“Havin’ fun?” Louis asked, a smirk spread across his lips. Harry nodded before gaining courage from the music to approach the pretty boy with a cigarette in his mouth.

“Wanna dance?” He said shyly. Louis rolled his eyes before getting up anyway, joining Harry. He put his arms around his waist and that hot sensation was felt again. Harrys breathing became staggered until he looked in to Louis’ eyes and felt calm as they swayed to the lyrics and swing rhythm.

Girls will be boys and boys will be girls,

It’s a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world,

Except for Lola.

“Guess what this song is about,” Louis broke the silence. Harry shrugged, not really knowing, just enjoying its sound. Louis leaned over to Harry’s ear, lips ghosting the shell of it, giving the curly boy goosebumps all over his body, “transvestites.”

Harry gasped, “Louis!” Surely the song wasn’t about such a controversial topic.

“What?” He laughed back, “’s true.” And as Harry thought over it, he realised there was nothing controversial about it. It was just a love song between two people, just more indifferent.

Harry doesn’t know how long he was trapped in Louis’ ocean eyes for. How long he’d been glancing down at his mouth, almost begging to touch it with his own, bitten lips. Before long, both boys were on separate beds in the dark. Harry was in such an unfamiliar place and he was scared. He needed a reminder of safety, so he did what his heartbeat in his mouth told him to do.

“Louis, are you awake?”

Harry heard shifting and a groggily voice responded, “What?”

“Oh, ‘m sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” Harry apologised, turning to look at Louis who was sat up in the other twin bed. His skin was faintly lit by the moonlight oozing through the open, small window above the record player, looking out on to the woods. His skin looked golden under the light, his muscles having more definition in the shadows. Harry had to resist the temptation to go over there and trace every aspect of the boys skin.

“No, no, its fine, love” Louis replied in a croaky voice that made Harry’s heart flutter, “Cant sleep?”

“Something like that.”  
  
“C’mere” Louis said, patting the empty spot on his bed. Harry walked over, without much thought and sat down, “homesick?”

Harry let out a quiet giggle at that, “no. Just thinking”  
  
“That cant be a good thing.” Louis joked. Harry pouted before playfully hitting Louis with a pillow, “Alright! I surrender!”

Harry scrunched his nose up before running a hand through his hair and letting a sigh escape his lips. Louis’ crystal eyes shone with concern at Harry, “I’ve never done anything like this before. I only have these impulses when I’m with you.”

Harry could hardly see Louis’ expression, but felt the warmth of his body move closer. Harry wanted to wrap himself in it like a safety blanket and for Louis to scatter kisses across him lovingly. He didn’t know why he had these thoughts around Louis, but he just knew he could tame them, even if he wanted to. He gave up that internal fight a while ago.

“Come on , Harry,” Louis spoke softly, opening his duvet so Harry could lay beside him. Both of them slotted perfectly against each other like puzzle pieces. They lay eye-to-eye and Harry felt that feeling in his belly blooming like summer roses all over again. Like he was falling into a comfortable trance, “you can always talk to me, love.”

The way Louis face softened the more Harry looked at him sent Harry’s emotions into overdrive, “I don’t wanna talk” he stated. He felt his head nudge across the pillow, eyes locked on Louis’ lips like they were a magnet.

Louis licked his lips as he stared as Harry’s inviting mouth, body’s becoming more heated as they lay under the covers together. Louis closed the space between them by tugging the curls on the back of Harry’s head towards him. When their lips met it was like an explosion. At first, it was just tender grazes, darling to fall into each other, but eventually they did. Their mouths moulded together perfectly in a slow rhythm under the blinking stars. Harry’s slow breathing became ore frantic as he pressed himself up against Louis more forcefully, wanting more and more, like it was oxygen.

They broke away to collect themselves and finally breathe, but Harry felt like he couldn’t. He saw Louis’ lips, shining and pink, knowing it was because of him and tentatively smiled at him, before poking his tongue out and a licking a stripe over his lips, chuckling at the impulsive gesture. Louis wrapped his strong arms around Harry’s delicate waist and pulled him even closer against him. Harry giggled as he gave chaste kisses up and down his neck and he felt as if he was sparkling. He felt safe, loved. A different love to what his mother and Niall gave him. A sacred, dangerous love that was only cherished between two prepossessing people who felt an instant spark after every touch. It was tender, fresh, rare. Romantic.

Harry felt it then as the butterflies seemed to finally be set free. As Louis laced his hands with Harry’s and squeezed it three times.No words had to be said, they both knew what they were both thinking. It felt liberating to lay beside him- something so wrong feeling so perfectly right. Limbs tangled beneath the sheets as they both fell into a golden slumber, like a wild dream being sang to sleep by a lullaby. It was like one of those romance novels Harry used to read while sat underneath a tree with a toothpick in his mouth. The lyrics of love painting a picture in his mind of pure bliss. Harry had been waiting to feel like that for a long time. 

He’s been waiting for Louis. 

-

“Wake up, love” Harry felt the words being whispered against his ear. He felt a buzzing of happiness erupt all over his skin and smiled before turning over making eye contact with Louis, a smirk also playing on the older boy’s lips. 

“Hi.” Harry breathed and moved himself closer to kiss Louis’ closed lips.

“Woah,” Louis pushed him away slightly, “somebody’s eager. We just woke up.” Harry just blushed and cuddled into Louis’ neck more, not wanting to move, “C’mon, Harry, we’ve got to get up.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at the mention of his name, ‘love.’ he mumbled into Louis’ skin.

“What?”

“Call me love.” Harry said shyly looking up at him. His beautiful gleaming eyed scanning Harry’s face. Cheekbones washed with a pink flush.

Louis pecked Harry’s lips, “Get up,  love.”

Harry smiled at that they complied, sitting up, stretching his arms out.

“You feeling okay?” he asked Louis as the boy just kept laughing there, eyes narrowed, arms behind his head making his biceps bulge.

“Just thinking,” he said leaning forwards and tracing invisible patterns over Harry’s back making bolts of electricity shoot through the curly-haired boy, “do you know who you are, Harry?”

Harry’s head snapped towards him, a puzzled look on his face, “‘M Harry Styles.” He said it as if it was a well known fact, which it was. But Harry knew what Louis meant. And no he didn’t. He didn’t have a clue.

“You know what i mean,” Louis started, “I showed you this place, this safety net i have back home. I’ve always known there was something about you, Harry Styles. Ever since i laid my eyes on you and your seducing curls and big framed glasses” he joked lightly, poking Harry’s dimple, “that’s why i didn’t hesitate to take you like i was initially thinking. You’re a good kid. I don’t think you have a bad bone in y’ body, but what about you?” 

Harry searcher Louis’ eyes, not knowing what to say, “What i’m saying is,” Louis began again, “I’m gay, Harry. That’s why my dad moved me to Liverpool. He hates the idea of his son being a ‘fag’. That’s when i ran away, here to Zayn’s place. And that’s why he took me away from here, away from this community of people.” 

“I’m sorry, Lou” Harry breathed out, eyes filling slightly as the sad expression that hung over Louis’ face like a grey cloud.

“Don’t apologise, baby,” Louis said, brushing his hand up and down Harry’s arm, “ I just want you to know it’s a big thing. As much as you don’t want it to be, it is. And it sucks. I just need you to keep quiet about all this when we get back to Liverpool, yeah? You don’t even know if you’re gay yet-“

“I’m not gay,” Harry cut him off, scared of the word.

“What we did last night was pretty gay, Harry.” Louis laughed, but it was heavy. The air was thick between them and Harry couldn’t breathe.

“I’m not gay. I don’t like boys, just you. Never liked anyone like i like you.” Harry fumbled with his fingers, avoiding looking at Louis’ face.

“Hey, love,” Louis grabbed Harry’s hands and brushed his thumb over his knuckles, lovingly, “lets go home, yeah?”

-

“And where the fuck have you been?!” 

It was currently 10am in a Monday and Harry was trying to get past a group of people to get to his design class, but Niall saw him and pulled him aside, now looking at him with a quizzical look.

“I was calling all weekend! Where’d you get to?” He said.

“Uh, I was out. Visiting family.” Harry excused, trying to get past him. He loved Niall, but right now he was confused, frustrated and late for class.

Ever since Harry got home Sunday evening, he couldn’t stop thinking about Louis. His lips, his laugh, his voice, his face, his smile. Everything. He was in a constant daydream about the boy. Infatuated. They had called each other a few times since they got home, but silly stuff like: book recommendations, records, Liam’s new haircut. 

Harry didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know if he was gay. The word had always came with connotations of hate from people like Calvin calling him a ‘sissy’ or a ‘queer.’

He just knew that he liked Louis. A lot.

“You getting off with a girl and not telling me, Styles?” Niall teased. But Harry felt his lungs tighten and forced a smile, before waving goodbye to the irish boy and scurrying to his class.

Luckily, he was on time. Mrs Andrews sat with her legs folded under her desk, eyes peering behind her spectacles at Harry.

“Harry, can i have a word?” She asked, Harry nodded walking towards her desk, “It’s about your work. I want to showcase it at the Liverpool Art & Design Museum under the schools name.”

Harry gasped. He felt his cheeks heat up. This was a massive deal. A huge step into his passion, his dreams.

“Yes!” He squealed, a little bit  too eager ,  “yes, that’d be incredible!”

Mrs Andrews laughed at the boy, “yes, yes. Very good opportunity, i know. You can thank me later!” 

“Thank you, thank you!” He exclaimed over and over again. Suddenly, the door jerked open and students rushed to their seats.

“I’ll speak to you tomorrow, Harry” Mrs Andrews smiled, patting his shoulder.

Another hour in Harry’s life flew by. His class was finished in a huge whirlwind of fabrics and sewing needles. He had listen to Perrie drone on about her ex-boyfriend from the other side of the room while trying to focus on cutting out embroidery for the dress he was planning on making for the museum. He couldn’t believe he had gotten such an opportunity, his insides warmed at the thought as he kept going over it in disbelief in his head.

When the bell rang, he packed up all of his things, satchel swung over his shoulder as he was the last one out of the classroom.

As he walked down the corridor to go for his lunch he felt a hand grab his upper-arm and yank him in a dark room.

It was pitch black.

Initially, Harry panicked. His breathing wasloud and erratic, but soft ‘hushes’ being pressed into his ear calmed him down as he knew who the settling whispers were done by.

“Louis!” He gasped, slapping his arm playfully as he could make out the silhouette of his body. Louis giggled and turned on the light inside the caretaker’s closet before pushing Harry up against the wall and kissing him rather passionately.

As much as Harry loved it, he was confused, “Louis, what’re you doing?”

“What? I’ve missed you. Missed your mouth” Harry felt the words go straight to his groin, but his brain overpowered and he brought himself the courage to push Louis off him.

“What do you  really  want?” Harry giggled into his mouth.

“Liam invited me to the drive in cinema with him and Niall,” Louis said, “and i  really  want you to come with me.”

Harry shook his head at Louis’ cute pout he made .

“Please, Harry. I can’t stand them alone, love.” Louis begged.

“Fine,” Harry exasperated, “I missed you too, by the way.”

Louis’ flashed a grin that split his face and nibbled at Harry’s neck, in which Harry protested (hardly) and shoved him off, “i’m starving.” Giving Louis the notion it was lunch time. 

“Me too. For you.” Louis said, a cheesy smile on his lips.

“Lou!” Harry groaned. He thought for a second, lost in Louis’ sweet disposition, “guess what.”

“What?” Louis asked, looking at Harry with an intrigued glint in his eyes.

“Mrs Andrews wants to showcase my work in the  Liverpool Art & Design !”  Harry squealed.

“Oh my god, love!” Louis exclaimed, picking up Harry and spinning him around in the tight space of the enclosed closet, “I have no idea what that means but your excited so i’m  even more  excited!!” They kissed a bit more, before pulling away for breath and Harry nodding his head towards the door to leave and get out of school before they get locked in.

Louis pecked his lips before squeezing his hand and opening the closet and walking out, then letting each other go as they walk through the halls.

As much as Harry hated having to let go of him, he knew it had to happen. That this sweetheart crush wasn’t everybody else’s epitome of what a ‘crush’ was. They were two boys. It was frowned upon by people, shamed by preachers and degraded by society. He wish it wasn’t like that, but it was. That the outside of peace, love and teased tall hair was just a facade that to make everyone think everything was okay. 

“If it isn’t Tomlinson,” Harry stilled. He knew that voice, it was Calvin head to toe in leather, sunglasses pushing his hair back to reveal his stupid face, “and of course this little sissy” he ruffled Harry’s hair.

“Fuck off, Cal” Louis snarled, attempting to just walk past without a bother. Obviously, Calvin had other ambitions.

“Why you hanging around with this queer anyway?” Calvin spat, glaring at Harry like he was dirt under his shoe. It made him feel so small.

“Calvin. Fuck. Off.” Louis pressured, backing him up to the wall, Calvin’s friends backing off as they saw red in Louis’ , oh so blue, eyes.

“What? You a fag like him?” And then Louis saw white. White hot rage. He head butted Calvin so hard he dropped to the floor and his friends gathered to his aid as Louis turned around quickly and grabbed Harry’s lower-arm, running through the halls, out the front doors and on to the main street.

“Holy cow, Lou!” Harry shouted, “why’d you do that?”

“A ‘thank you’ would’ve sufficed.” Louis smirked, wandering in front of Harry.

“Louis.” Harry sternly said and halted, wanting Louis to turn around.

“Not here, Harry, please.” 

“No. Why did you have to do that? We don’t even know if he’s okay. Jesus!” Harry ran a hand through his hair out of pure stress.

“What the fuck was i supposed to do? He called you a  fag,  Harry. ”  Harry flinched back at Louis’ harsh tone.

“But he’s right,” Harry felt his eyes well up and quiet sobs fell out of his mouth, “I am one.”

Louis wanted to kiss him then. Wipe away his tears with his lips, mending bruises with sweet nothings and reassurance. But he was in the middle of the street, so he just watched the poor boy crumble infront of him.

Harry, on the other hand, just wanted to go home. Tuck himself up with Rosie and a cup of coffee, maybe watch  The Brady Bunch to try and cheer himself up ,  not take cruel words from biker boys and feel shitty.

“Harry, it doesn’t matter who you are. You shouldn’t be called those things just because of who you are.“ Louis explained , pulling Harry into a hug.

“But i am one, Lou. They’re not wrong!” Harry cried into his shoulder. Drenching the collar of his polo with salty tears. 

“No.” Louis said softly before pulling back, gripping Harry by his shoulders so they were eye-to-eye, “Those words are hurtful. They come from a dark place. This,” Louis gestured between the two of them, “this is beautiful.”

Harry wants to say something then, or do something. Grab Louis and kiss him right there in the middle of the street. Turn against everyone for a second and run into the darkest corner of the world and make it the brightest as he kissed Louis with such tenderness and care.

But before he can even react, “Lads?” It’s Liam, and he’s with Niall, “you alright?”

Louis and Harry pulled apart, “Yeah,” Louis coughed, “H is just having a bad day.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, going along with it, “and bad allergies, too.” 

Niall chucked, “you ‘n those fuckin’ allergies, Styles.”

Harry forced out a laugh. At least making it believable that he was even the tiniest bit happy. Trying to convince them and himself.

“Anyways,” Liam said, “We’re going to that new Jaws screening now. Was bored and didn’t fancy waitin’ around for the last one.”

“Oh, alright” Louis said, “yeah, well, let’s go.”

And with that the boys walked, Louis and Harry drifting. The magnetism being forced to shut off, just while they weren’t alone.

-

Harry was trying so hard to focus on the movie. So hard. But as soon as the cackling signal that the film was rolling began and the lights dimmed, all he could think about was the way Louis’ hand went up and down his thigh.

It was small. No one could see it. But they were in public and the possibility was there. Niall and Liam were already engrossed in the movie, eyes bulging at the dramatic music and graphics. 

Louis wasn’t though, he was still, apart from the wandering hand that kept getting closer and closer to Harry’s groin. Harry moved in his seat a bit, mouthing a ‘stop it’ to Louis.

Of course, Louis didn’t stop.

His hand inched further and further and further up Harry’s leg, caressing the denim, tracing patterns in it with his knuckles.

Harry flushed a bright red and Louis noticing it, smirked mischievously, looking back to the movie, hand not moving. Still resting over his crotch.

Harry was inevitably hard. He coughed nervously, excusing himself to the toilet and walking out into the red-painted halls of the theatre outside the bathroom.

He took deep breaths to calm himself down. This had never happened before in all his seventeen years of being alive. 

The theatre door opened again and Louis walked out, a smug smile on his face as he stared at Harry.

“What’s so ammusin’?” Harry asked with a cocked hip.

“I hardly did anythin’ and you’re all worked up” Louis said, laughing again.

“Is it?” Harry said leaning towards Louis in the empty corridor.

“Yeah,” Louis’ minty breath from his gum fanned across Harry’s face, “want me to help?” He pressed Harry up against the wall.

Harry blushed, eyes wandering, “W-what about Niall and Liam?” he stuttered, “won’t they get suspicious?”

“Let them.” Louis said before pulling Harry into the bathrooms, pressing him against the wall before locking the door.

It was all so intense. Harry felt like his head was underwater, hardly able to breathe. Ribbons of white passed through his vision the more Louis pressed his thigh in between his legs. 

“Like that, baby?” Louis whispered, lips grazing his ears.

“Yes, so much” Harry mewled. He knew it was wrong, but he didn’t care. He found out he did that a lot around Louis.

They were panting in each other’s mouths- pure desperation.

“How about you get on your knees for me, darlin’?” Louis said to Harry, his hand running up and down his back.

Harry nodded, afraid because he hadn’t done this before. He gripped Louis’ thighs on the way down, thinking about how they were sculpted by Gods. Harry was so glad he was able to touch them and nobody else.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Louis encouraged as Harry went down on him, nervous hands fumbling at his zipper, “don’t be anxious, baby, anything you do will get me off”

Harry took Louis’ cock in his mouth as far as he could. Balancing by placing his hands on either sides of Louis on the cold bathroom walls. 

Louis was hot and heavy inside his mouth. When he looked down, he tugged Harry’s curls tighter, “fuck, you look so good on your knees.” He winked.

Electricity bolted through Harry and he sucked on Louis harder than ever, earning whines and grunts from above him. Calls of ‘baby’ and ‘darlin’’ sending him, himself, over the edge.

Louis came with a moan, writhing up against the wall as Harry took it all, come pouring out of his mouth and he swallowed. He didn’t really know what to do with it, so he just did it out of reaction. If Louis’ wide eyes told him anything, it is that what he did was right.

They scrambled to their feet and Louis held Harry, “don’t you need to get off?” Louis asked.

Harry blushed, “Uh, no. Kind of already did. Sorry. You just looked really good.”

This gave Louis a smug smirk and he kissed Harry. It was mostly teeth due to their smiles, but it was perfect nonetheless.

“Let’s get out of here.” Louis whispered in his ear and they ran through the empty cinema halls, hand in hand. 

Heart in heart. 

-

The soft gleam of the early sun broke through the clouds that swam through the orange rays. Sounds of the ocean’s waves could be heard as they collapsed elegantly on the cliff side. The scent of salt hung in the air; creating a bitter sweet taste. And as the crisp sun rose beautifully in front of Harry, it was difficult to focus on anything else. It’s gorgeous glow radiated thecity beneath him- showing life without breathing. A reason. Hope.

He looked up to see Louis. He shuffled between his legs slightly before moulding himself into the blue-eyes boy, head against his chest. Louis’ gaze softened as he looked down at Harry- away from the sun, his lips quirking upwards. They sparkled pink in the golden light.

A gentle breeze brushed his feathered, brown hair and his eyes seemed to blink stardust. Harry smiled silently at the delicate image against his bicep as he turned to look back at the sunrise.

It didn’t compare to him, though. Louis’ grip tightened around him. Not in an uncomfortable way, but a loving one. One that whispered ‘ _i’m always right here._ ’ A safe way. 

Harry leaned in closer that anyone thought was possible, while the morning sun drenched across the cliff they sat upon, isolated in each other’s wishful company, curating a glistening warmth that glazed the rocks they sat on. 

Harry was sure this was the closest to heaven he’ll ever be.

Sure, it was mutual to keep their love secret. They felt as if the world wasnt ready, and it didn’t have to be. Harry knew it would be eventually, a slow burn for mankind. Acceptance was hard when you were taught the same way for so long. But he felt it deep down, someday their will be change. Another world where another ‘Harry and Louis’ can live their lives freely, expressing their admiration at every street corner, and not be judged.

Someday.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading !! leave a comment and kudos. chapter 2 will be up soon.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr (brownsugarh) for updates :p


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